


Sooner than She Thinks

by Tangerine



Category: Incorruptible (Comic)
Genre: F/M, Flashback, Happy Ending, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three phases in the life of a reformed super villain sidekick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sooner than She Thinks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



_Then:_

On her fifteenth birthday, Terri woke up and decided just to leave. It had been a clusterfuck of a year. She'd been expelled from school for starting a riot (not her fault the fascists in charge decided to take french fries off the lunch menu), and her grandma had died after an ugly battle with cancer. Instead of allowing her to miss some school and be at her grandma's side, her asshole parents had banned her from spending any time with the only person who had ever loved her. When she voiced her complaints, her dad gave Sandy away while Terri was out visiting her grandma's grave.

Terri loved that dog with all her heart, and they had known it, removing that last bit tying her to them.

It's not like she didn't give them a million chances to notice or care or anything other than the unending indifference. That morning, she even went downstairs in her pyjamas and waited for a Happy Birthday. It'd been years since she'd gotten presents, deemed too badly behaved to deserve them, but words were all she wanted. Clearly, they forgot or something, and left the house without noticing her on the couch.

She thought about torching the place but settled for breaking into the safe in their bedroom and stealing her father's stupid raining day fund and the keys to the car her grandma had left her. It wasn't anything impressive, just a black sedan that smelled like cigarettes, but it was _hers_. The lawyer had said so.

She packed all the undies and socks she owned, three pairs of jeans and enough shirts to last a week. One jacket, in case it got cold, two sets of pyjamas, and Penelope, her stuffed bear. It was a miserable looking thing, one eye missing, stuffing reduced by half, totally grungy, but it was the first toy her grandma had given her. She also took her laptop, cell phone, and mp3 player because fuck them.

In black marker and big capital letters, she wrote **SEE YA FUCKERS** on the wallpaper in the hallway.

Her mother had always bragged about that ugly stupid wallpaper.

Her list of rebellious misdemeanours was long, but she hadn't actually driven a car before. Still, contrary to popular belief, she wasn't an idiot, and it was easy to figure out all the buttons. Maybe she cut a couple people off and ran a red light, but she managed to make it out of town without trouble.

She spent two blissful weeks on the road, driving during the day, sleeping at night. She'd always looked a bit older than she was, so nobody really questioned her, though one guy with a moustache and bad BO offered her fifty bucks for a blowie. She declined, of course, because she was worth more than that.

On the fourteenth day, curled into a ball in her backseat, Terri was awoken by a cacophony of sirens. Intrigued, she tied her hair back and shrugged into her jacket. The streets were thick with cops, shouting at each other and waving guns around. And then, without warning, she was ten feet away from the Plutonian. The motherfucking _Plutonian_. He looked even more like a tool than he had on TV.

Casually, she strolled around, drawing no attention to herself. Some sort of bank heist, she figured, knowing the rich bastards probably deserved it and not really feeling bad at all. She stepped into an alley, pausing to take a few pictures with her cell phone, then turned around and saw _him_. He was facing away from her, but he always wore that stupid coat with the skull on the back. It was a lame costume.

It was an opportunity she couldn't afford to pass up.

She steeled herself then slipped up behind him and casually asked, “whatcha you doing?”

Max Damage, voted number one most violent super villain by People magazine, jumped a foot in the air and turned on her so fast she barely had time to duck away from the arm that shot out.

“ _Jesus_!”

Terri grinned. “Did I scare you?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, with hilarious emphasis. “That was a stupid move, girl. Don't you know who I am?”

“Max Damage,” she replied. “You're better looking in person. You look so old on the wanted posters.”

The look he gave her was priceless, and she almost laughed, except she kept getting distracted by his eyes. Blue, halfway between the ocean and the sky, but with a darkness to them, like a shadowy storm on the horizon. And man, he was hot, all broad shoulders and stocky build and muscles on every inch of his perfect body. He probably looked even better naked, which made her all fluttery to think about.

“I'm Terri,” she said, offering her hand.

He looked at it. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she replied, without missing a beat. She realised she was still wearing her pyjamas, a plain white tank top and flannel pants with sheep all over them, but fuck it, at least she wasn't wearing a bra. “Since we're friends now, I feel obligated to tell you the Plutonian is floating around looking for you.”

“Shit! This damn day just keeps getting worse. I shouldn't have got out of bed this morning.”

Terri smiled sweetly at him. “If you were in my bed, I wouldn't have let you.”

Max snorted then turned away, looking down the alley. “Wrong time, wrong place for this, sweetheart.”

She wondered how old he was. Yesterday, she would have pegged him at forty easy, but up close, ignoring that shock of white slicing through his black hair, she wondered if he'd even managed to hit thirty yet. She'd messed around with a couple guys before, but she'd never felt so worked up about them.

“I have a car,” she offered casually. “I could help you escape. Plain sight and all that jazz, right?”

Max twisted back to look at her. “How old are you really?”

“Eighteen,” she repeated. “So do you want a ride or not?”

Max swore again, then hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and gestured widely. Terri had always had a knack for moving with grace, something that had served her well till she got kicked out of ballet lessons for spitting in her dance teacher's face for being a hypocritical, judgemental bitch. Without even really knowing the way, she found her car and helped Max get settled in the back.

After that, it was easy.

They drove for a bit, out of Coalville and onto the highway that edged the city. Eventually, Max sat up and ran a hand through his hair. She met his gaze in the rear-view mirror, and she smiled at him.

He picked up one of her bras and dangled it on his finger. “You live in here?”

“Yep,” she replied. “I'm a little down on my luck right now.”

“Theme of the day,” he replied dryly. “There's no fucking way you're eighteen. What's this?”

She looked back at Penelope, who looked downright ridiculous in Max's huge hand. “A girl needs a friend who won't judge, right? We're both a little damaged, but that just makes us interesting.” She hoped she sounded cool, but talking to Max wasn't like the kids at school, and she was scared.

She really didn't want to screw this up.

“Turn here,” Max said, leaning up between the seats, his forearms resting on the back of them.

They drive for five more torturous minutes, with Max occasionally pointing out where to go. He smelled like gunpowder and metal, and it took every bit of strength she had not to inhale deeply and reveal herself as a total dork. Instead, she focussed on the road, chewing on her lower lip, nervous.

Eventually, they ended up inside Max Damage's secret super villain headquarters. It looked like a sewer and smelled like one, too. She turned off the car and stepped out, looking around with wide eyes.

She didn't flinch when Max came up behind her, putting his hands on her hips and turning her around.

“How old are you?”

Terri sighed. “Why does it matter? I've heard you like them young, and you like me, don't you?”

“I like jailbait, not little girls running around with stuffed bears in stolen cars.”

“That's my fucking car!” She shouted, not exactly the most mature response, but whatever. She thought about turning away, about ending this right here, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Max Damage was dangerous, but he'd brought her here without her having to ask. “I'm fifteen, okay.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment then asked, “you got parents chasing after you?”

“I doubt it,” she replied, placing her hands over his, bending toward him. “I'll make it good for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You got any superpowers at all, Jailbait?”

“Nope,” she replied, grinning.

“I'm gonna regret this,” Max said, tugging her closer, and she laughed.

This was going to be so much fun.

 _Now:_

She's nervous.

She hasn't seen Max in months, not since she decided St. Lucifer was a massive dick and didn't even deserve to be in her presence, but she's never missed the Daily News at Six. He's on it all the time,not exactly the hero for the people everyone needs, but trying so damn hard that she loves him even more.

She knocks on the door, because his new headquarters doesn't have a bell, and waits, and waits some more, before knocking again and again. There's no way he can know it's her, his powers don't exactly work like that, and while he might be asleep, she doubts it. He's been working himself too hard.

Finally, the door opens, and it's Max, looking like total shit. He stares at her blearily. “ _Fuck_ , Terri.”

She holds up one hand, the other hugging a pizza box against her hip. “I come in peace.”

“I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore,” he says. “It's not good for you.”

“I'm not here to seduce you, you big idiot,” she replies. “I'm here to make sure you're taking care of yourself, which clearly you're not.” He's filthy, covered in some nameless fluid from head to toe, and the bags under his eyes are practically black. “And besides, it's my birthday, and I wanna celebrate it.”

“Still not legal,” Max says, closing the door, but she sticks her foot in, knowing he won't break it to prove a point, not this new superhero Max Damage. Even the old one wouldn't have hurt her, not really.

“Why does everything have to be about sex with you?” She asks, only half serious. “You look awful.”

“I've been awake for four days,” he replies. “That pizza is gonna taste like goddamn cardboard.”

“That's why you're going to take a nap first. You're no good to anyone like this.”

Max snorts. “Yeah, resetting my powers is really gonna help the situation.”

“And you being a total sleep-deprived idiot is? Superheroes can take breaks, you know.”

He sighs, turning around and heading up the stairs, leaving the door wide open. It's the only invitation she's gonna get from him, so she takes it. She isn't sure what to expect, but it looks like a comfortable living room, with a big couch in front of an even bigger television, and an impressive computer set up. There's even a full kitchen, though Max isn't one for cooking. It's bright, airy, and not like Max at all.

“It's nice,” she says, putting the pizza on the counter. “A vast improvement over the sewer.”

Max shrugs. “I'm a sitting duck up here, but at least people know where to find me.”

Terri smiles, and it's awkward, which isn't what she wanted. They used to be so comfortable together. She understands his point of view as much as she can, though she still doesn't quite agree with it. Seventeen is totally better than fifteen, and there are only a handful of states still sitting at eighteen for age of consent. Unfortunately, they happen to live in one of them. It's just bad luck; story of her life.

“Happy Birthday,” he says. “I didn't get you a present.”

“You didn't slam the door on my foot. That's all I wanted,” she replies, a steady ache in her chest.

They regard each other like strangers, and she wishes she could at least hug him without him spazzing out. Truth is, he's the best friend she has, and it hurts that he can barely stand to look at her. She moves her right hand to her left, touching the scar tissue that used to be her pinky finger. It reminds her of him.

It was really awesome, being his sidekick, but those days are over. She gets that now.

She climbs onto the couch and pats a cushion. “Why don't you lie down for a bit?”

“Not tired,” he replies. “And in case you didn't know, I'm in the middle of something right now.”

“I know. It's all over the news.” She bites her lip, trying to be mature, trying not to cry, but he's making it so hard to even help him. She knows he's tired. “Let me worry about that, 'k? Come on, Max, just a for a bit. I'll tell you all about my boring life, and I promise you'll be asleep in, like, thirty seconds.”

He sighs, shrugs off his jacket then slides onto the couch, lying down at the opposite end. He gets comfortable. “I'm waiting,” he says, closing his eyes. “Who have you hooked up with this time?”

“No one,” she replies, a little snidely, “at least not how you mean. I'm living in Steel City.”

“That place is a dump.”

“It's okay,” she says. “Don't laugh, but I'm going to this school. This alternative high school, for kids who can't handle the stupidity of the public school system. The people are all a little weird, which I like. And I'm getting good grades, too,” she adds, unable to hide the pride in her voice. “It's cool.”

“You living with anyone?” He asks, cracking one eye open. “Or are you still with Lucifer?”

She wants to say, he wasn't you, but settles on, “nah, that's over. I'm kinda tired of the super villain circle. They're all total idiots.” He chuckles a bit, which makes her grin. “I'm living with this woman named Mary Anne. I thought it was bullshit when I read her post on Craigslist, but she's actually legit. She gives out space to girls who need a home, for whatever reason. I didn't tell her the whole story.”

Both of his eyes are open now, and she stares back at him.

“I guess nice people exist,” he offers lamely.

“She always says, if Max Damage can try to help, so can she. I think she has a crush on you.”

Max snorts, but doesn't say anything else, and then he's out, just like that. While he snores, she checks the internet again, just to make sure nothing is falling down around them, and plays a few games, and checks all her favourite sites. There's a couple text messages from some friends at school, which she responds to, and one from Mary Anne, asking if she'll be home tonight to have some cake. She will.

She looks at Max, noticing he's beginning to look his age. It'd be nice if he shaved more often, but his powers don't exactly work in his favour and he's the type of guy to have a five o'clock shadow by noon. He's a heavy sleeper, always has been, and it's probably the scariest thing about him. She used to have nightmares about it. Gently, she unlaces his boots and pulls them off. She curls a hand around his foot.

She lets him sleep for a few hours, enough to get his head on straight. She turns on the oven and reheats the pizza, then hunts around in the fridge for a couple of beers. Hopefully he's not such a straightedge that he won't let her have a beer on her birthday. There's still a few hours before she has to drive back.

She prepares a tray with a bowl of hot water, a tub of shaving soap, a brush and a straight razor. She includes a damp washcloth in hopes he'll wipe off whatever he's covered in, at least from his face. Then, she cups her hands and blows into them, warming her skin, and gently lays them on his face.

“I'm awake,” he murmurs, and for a moment, pushes his cheek against her palm and holds it there.

He sits up, notices the set up, then starts cleaning up as Terri brings him a frosty glass of beer. She putters about in the kitchen, feeling absurdly domestic, and divvies up the pizza, giving Max most of it. She hopes it's good. He spends most of his life with only two senses operating, so in the tiny window when he can taste, smell and feel, he deserves the best. It smells amazing, filling the whole room.

Clean shaven and a little less grimy, Max looks up at her and takes the plate she hands him. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” she says.

“Tell me about this school you're going to,” he mutters around a slice of steaming pizza.

“It's pretty cool,” Terri starts, and begins detailing an average day in the life of a reformed super villain sidekick. She complains about a few teachers, but praises even more. She talks about the books she's reading, and how math can actually be kinda cool in the right context, and how she kicks ass in gym. She tells him about her friends, a group of misfits she fits right into, and other boring high school stuff.

Max listens, grunting when he likes something, snorting when he's amused. Terri tries not to watch the clock, tries not to count down the minutes to when Max goes numb again and can't enjoy these small moments. As he polishes up the last slice of pizza and drains the rest of his beer, she stands up.

“You're leaving?” He asks, surprised.

“No,” she says, and hugs him tightly, just for a moment, and almost cries when he hugs her back.

“You're doing great, Terri.” He squeezes her around the waist, his face in his hair. “That's all I want.”

“I'm trying,” she whispers.

It hurts so much she can barely breathe, and she wonders if this is what it feels like to finally grow up.

 _Later:_

She'll graduate on a rainy Wednesday morning. She'll spend the day in a daze, amazed she made it. She'll tell everyone it wasn't easy, that she had to work two part-time jobs to pay the tuition and that some nights she cried because there was so much work to do and she was just so tired, but she'll know it was worth it, because she'll get out of there with a near perfect GPA and a full ride to grad school.

She'll sit in her seat, listed alphabetically under Morris, Mary Anne's last name. She'll see her friends in the audience, all of them glowing with smiles and accomplishment, and they'll smile at each, remembering all the fun they had and all the memories they made together. She'll look around for him.

She'll be nervous in line, waiting for her name to be called, praying that she doesn't fuck it up and trip. She'll see Mary Anne with the other families, her camera held high, giving Terri a wide grin and a thumbs up. And when they finally announce, “Terri Morris, with distinction,” she'll cross the stage.

She'll hold that piece of paper in her hands and stare at it. She'll accept hugs, and congratulations, and polite enquiries about her future plans. She'll tell them how she got a full ride to study clinical psych at the new Coalville University, which will be accepting its first class of students in September.

She'll be freshly twenty-two years old, and beautiful, and smart. She'll be able to look back on the past and recognise the things that were unhealthy, that caused her harm, and she'll forgive herself for the bad things, as much as she can. She'll live with the memories, and know they made her a stronger person.

She'll still love him, but it won't be as desperate or as childish as it had been at fifteen, or even seventeen.

She'll not have seen him in four years, but she'll recognise him instantly, though he'll do his best to blend into the crowd. Their eyes will meet over a hundred heads, and she'll smile as bright as the sun at him, lifting a hand and waving like a total dork. And Max Damage will smirk and wave right back.

She'll murmur an incoherent excuse and weave through the crowd to reach him, terrified he'll have come this close only to leave before she can get there, but he'll be waiting for her. He'll have flowers, daisies, in one hand, and the other will snake around her waist and twirl her right off the ground.

“With distinction,” he'll murmur into her hair. “That's my girl. I knew you could do it.”

“I hear there's a statue of you at Coalville city hall,” she'll respond, taking the flowers in her arms and smelling them. She'll smile up at him and hug him again and introduce him to Mary Anne, who will recognise him immediately but say nothing. He'll hide in plain sight, a fedora hiding the white in his hair.

Max will be wearing a suit, and he'll be the most handsome she's ever seen him, and the most happy.

He'll be invited to the celebration dinner, which he'll accept. She'll tell him everything he missed in the last four years, all the classes she took, all the things she learned. She'll tell him about her friends, and her teachers, and her lovers, three boys and a girl, all of whom had been kind and fun and easy to let go of. She won't tell him that she still loves him, but she'll think he knows. She'll think Max loves her, too.

She'll hope they can be together, but she'll wait for them both to be ready.

It'll happen sooner than she thinks.


End file.
